No More Myths
by FredNeverDied
Summary: In the wake of the death of James' parents, his friends are nervous about how to approach him, as he's yet to cry a full week later. Bittersweet Jily moments ensue. T for brief, angry-James language.


_A/N: In my headcanon, once people joined up with the Order and officially went on the Death Eater's hit list, they started staying at the Order of the Phoneix headquarters for safety, especially the younger crowd, since they never had time to find a place between Hogwarts and wartime. Just to be clear. Tell me what you think in the reviews!_

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_No More Myths_

"…This isn't _normal_. Not for James, not for anybody..."

"…I've never _seen_ him like this before..."

"…He grieved differently when Emmeline was killed last month..."

"…Well of course he did. He was decent friends with Emmeline but this is his _parents_ we're talking about..."

"…The attack was only a week ago you guys. Give him time, it's not an issue yet..."

"Are you _kidding_? The way he's taking it...it's not healthy...not right…"

"Imagine someone murdering _your_ parents. Poor James, it must be horrible..."

"…Maybe we should just let the grief just run its' course...?"

"…No no, bad idea, we can't leave him alone. _Look_ at him...!"

The five congregated witches and wizards simultaneously leaned around the kitchen's doorframe and peered into the living room where their friend in question sat. James Potter, for his part, was reclining on the sofa with his back against the armrest, legs partly outstretched, and a book in his lap. At first glance, he seemed to be alright, the picture of relaxation in fact; but as the group noticed, and as they had _been_ noticing once every ten minutes as they checked on him, his hands were lip, face slack, eyes unseeing.

"He hasn't turned the page in half an hour." One of the witches—Marlene McKinnon—whispered. "It's just a show for the rest of us. Shouldn't he know there's no need to put up appearances?"

"That's just it though," replied the woman standing across from her, Alice Longbottom. "That's the way James is. His entire physis is to stay strong and encourage others with his own optimism. If he fails that, he fails himself and that's the last thing he thinks he's got."

"Loony morals if you ask me," Peter Pettigrew muttered, before adding, "I got that right, didn't I? Physis is like morals?"

"The physis is the nature of the indiv—" Remus Lupin began tiredly.

"_Boys_," hissed the fifth person, Lily Evans. "Not the time." Of the five of them, she regarded James with the most concern, she being his girlfriend of a year and a half; her eyes lingering on him longer than the others' and her mouth puckered with anxiety.

"Sorry," Remus and Peter mumbled.

The group moved back to hide behind the kitchen wall.

"Someone needs to talk to him," Marlene said after a moment.

"You mentioned," Peter reminded her.

"I'm serious," Marlene insisted. "You've seen how he's been all week—"

"—he's been _great_ all week!"

"Exactly!" Marlene said, rolling her eyes. "The boy's been tireless. He's been bubbly and helpful and encouraging and, in general, a pain in the arse. I'm telling you, it's a front and behind it, he's utterly miserable. Look at him now, he's _catatonic!_"

Yet again, the group shifted to peer into the living room and noted that James had yet to move. In fact, if it weren't for the slight waving of his hair in the air conditioned breeze, one would think the tableau of young-man-on-couch was a Muggle photograph.

"Someone should talk to him," Marlene said again.

"Not me," Alice sighed. "I mean, it's _James_, and I love him, but I haven't known him all that long. You lot," and here she motioned to Lily, Remus, and Peter, "plus Sirius only moved into headquarters a few months ago after your graduation."

"Leaves me out too then," Marlene added. "She's right—it should be someone who's been close to him."

"I'm rubbish at comfort," Peter said quickly. "I think we figured that much out after… after Emmeline." The others nodded solemnly, not condemning Peter but not vindicating him from his inabilities either.

"It's down to you two then," Marlene said. Lily and Remus looked at each other.

"I'll do it," they both said together. Alice grinned ruefully.

"Listen," she said, taking charge with her gentle, easy manner. "Lily should go to James; Remus, I know Sirius promised to hex the first person who went into his room, but…" Remus closed his eyes in resignation.

"…But Mr. and Mrs. Potter were like mother and father to him after his own kicked him out." He finished. "And he needs a friend just like anyone."

"And he still refers to me as Yoko Ono," Lily pointed out, "So I can't help him there."

The group exchanged looks that were somewhere between smiles and grimaces.

"We have our assignments then," Marlene said, echoing the charge words of Edgar Bones, one of their Order leaders. "_Disperse_."

"Aye sir," the group responded automatically, without a trace of humor. Peter slipped away to the back door leading out of the kitchen, making some comment about fresh air and returning in a few hours. Alice began to gather their mugs and tidy up the countertops from the impromptu intervention meeting.

"Marlene," Lily heard Remus say as he made his way to the base of the staircase, "Could you come with me for this?"

"Me?"

"Don't play dumb," Remus said, his voice prim, "We all know what you and Sirius have been up to lately. You're…_close_." With a wry smile and no denial of the implications, Marlene turned and followed Remus up the steps to Sirius' room in the Order headquarters.

Which left Lily alone with Alice in the quiet kitchen.

"He hasn't cried yet," Alice said after a moment, her voice soft.

"I know," Lily replied. "I've been watching."

"You've been taking good care of him," Alice went on, "Giving him space…reminding him of things…of course he's been so distracted…"

"Very distracted," Lily agreed. "He's trying so hard, Al. But he's so scared." She sighed. "Here goes nothing," she said to her friend, and the older woman smiled.

"Don't pity him," Alice said as Lily made to go to the living room. "Just…_empathy_."

"Empathy."

"That's right."

"Thanks Alice."

"And Lily?"

She turned.

"He's still _James_. Don't treat him like he's broken."

At Lily's half-raised eyebrows, Alice explained,

"Frank was close with Benjy Fenwick. He trained under him in the Auror program. I've had to do my fair share of comforting with the war."

"I'm sorry."

"We knew what we were getting into." Alice said, before offering a small, joking smile. "Now—go to take care of your man." Lily chuckled.

"Thanks Alice."

Steeling herself, Lily stepped over the threshold and through the sound barrier they'd thrown up—after all, it wouldn't do to have James overhearing their conversation. She made her way through the foyer and into the living room, right up to her boyfriend, but he never looked up or acknowledged her. Lily stood over him for a moment, inexplicably noticing just how _young_ he looked but how _old_ his eyes were, before she perched on the sofa beside him.

"You know," she began. "There's this myth going around."

"Yeah?" was the reply. Grateful that he was at least responsive, even more so that his tone seemed pleasant, Lily continued.

"Yeah," she said. "Apparently, the idea is that boys have less reasons to cry than girls and therefore shouldn't." He gave an amused scoff, his tone still pleasant, though clipped.

"I've heard the same myths myself," he said, finally looking up from the book and giving her a tight-lipped smile. "And the way I see it, according to these myths, is that birds have got to shave their legs right? So guys ought to hold it in then."

"How's this: I promise to stop shaving if you'll let it go." James sighed and glanced back down to the book in his lap.

"That's alright," he muttered, with a poor attempt at humor. "The other side gets thoroughly distracted in battle when you _do_ shave. Best to keep things up the way they are."

Lily waited for him to say more but it seemed as though she had been dismissed. With renewed vigor, he had returned to the book, even turning a page to prove his point, but she was not going to leave him to flounder in the wake of his parents' murder and trap all the grief behind a hard shell.

"James?" Lily said. He cocked an eyebrow but did not look at her. She sighed. "James, you've been reading the same two pages for half an hour."

"And here I thought the five people in the kitchen _weren't_ spying on me," he said sardonically.

"To be fair, it started out as a simple tea party but then we may, eventually, have fallen to spying." He smiled grimly but still did not look at her, turning another page to show that he was, indeed, quite absorbed and his attention to the book demanded full focus.

"_He hasn't cried yet_," she could hear Alice saying.

"_The attack was a week ago_," Peter had pointed out.

"_He's catatonic!_" Marlene cried.

She would not leave him alone with himself.

"_James?_" Lily said. This time, he made no indication that he'd heard her. "James, _please_, this isn't healthy and we're worried about you."

"I'm _fine_." James said adamantly.

"You're _not_." She replied, just as firm.

"Lily, what's the use anyway?" he said. "I'm _fine_." He swallowed once and returned to his book, turning yet another page to further deter her. Lily pursed her lips. It was an excellent cue to leave. She'd said her peace, he'd said his, they were at an impasse, and he'd begin to get angry if she pressed him further.

But she would not mollycoddle him just now, wouldn't give in to his demands. He was behaving like a child, expecting to get his way when others knew better (not that anyone could blame him) and, as she knew, one mustn't cede to children's wills. It had been a week since the death of his parents and the blatantly false facade he wore had not slipped once. He'd been _great_, as Peter said—energetic and talkative and helpful and cavalier—but the moment his services around headquarters were no longer needed for the day, he would retreat to the living room, curl up, and just stare at the same, stupid book, as he had done today, and every day, for the past week.

So if it hurt him that she had to be the catalyst for his feelings, so be it, because she was not going to let him alternate between wearing the most happily indifferent mask in his drawer and spending hours at a time everyday in catatonia.

"What's the _use?_" she repeated, dropping her head to catch his eyes and holding him there with a steady look. "What's the use in crying is that you really just need to do it. Otherwise... James it's like you're going to implode."

He swallowed again, his Adam's apple bobbing, and his face began to redden.

"'M really...really fine." He choked, "It's not...I want..."

And with that, he broke down crying, the book tumbling out of his hands to land on the floor. In her surprise at the sudden change in demeanors, Lily numbly registered that the book was Sr. Potter's Auror handbook that he'd gotten when he entered training. He would have been James' age when he received it and started writing in it, making it just as much his own journal as a guide.

James ignored his father's discarded volume and pulled his knees up to his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around his legs, and buried his face in them. His glasses were pushed up to the top of his head with the force and Lily gently removed them, causing him to only cry harder. She realized with a pang of guilt that this was a very maternal gesture and wondered just how many times Mrs. Potter had done so for her little boy.

"'M sorry," he moaned into his knees. "Lily, 'm sorry…"

"It's alright," she whispered, shifting her weight to be closer to him. "James, it's fine, this is good, it's alright."

She found herself at an awkward physical position to comfort him, but before she could rearrange herself, she drew her wand and pointed it at the door, closing and locking it so James' pride would be no worse for wear later on. Stowing the instrument away, she managed to adjust her body till she was lying parallel next to him. With another choking sob, James curled into her, wrapping an arm around her waist and crying into her shoulder. Instinctually, she began to stroke his hair, running her fingers through the thick cowlicks that had always infuriated her when they were younger.

"'M sorry," he muttered again, hiccupping violently. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…."

"It's fine," she said, still petting him. "It's alright James, you're human, it's alright to hurt."

"'S my _parents,_ Lily," he whispered. "Shit Lily, they killed...they killed..."

"Your mother and father loved you," she said, fully aware that she was recycling worn-out clichés of comfort and hating herself for it. "They knew what they were getting into, they'd thought this through, they'd decided..."

"But _I_ didn't!" James cried, turning his head to stare up at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes. "_I_ didn't _know_, didn't _think_...it all seemed so dangerous and romantic when we joined up, like an old action movie, and very 'we're off to save the world, what a _lark _this will be!' but then…_Shit Lily_, they killed my _parents! _They're _gone_ and I never actually thought—"

He choked again and a hard gleam came into his eyes.

"I'll kill them," he growled. "Those bastards, I'm going to—"

But she didn't let him finish. She couldn't let him make any dark, grand dictums like that because if he verbalized the desire, then he was already half-way gone down the path of martyrdom.

"No," Lily interjected, ignoring his hurt and confusion at being interrupted in his misery. "No you will not. You will not be a vigilante, you will not be desperate, and you will not be wild. Not in a fight. You will be safe and, rest assured, get your justice, but you will not go on a hunt for revenge." He opened his mouth, obviously to object to her denying him this justified anger; but Lily cut across him again.

"You will do this," she said evenly, "Because what _am_ I supposed to do if something happens to you. Hm?" His glare softened slightly as this pith registered. "'S my boyfriend Remus,'" she said, copying his words from before, but careful to not mock him. "'Shit Remus, they killed...they killed..._James?_"

He swallowed and she knew she made her point.

"You're grieving James," she said, still stroking is hair, "And you know that we are too, all of us; your parents were extraordinary people. Which is why we're going to take care of you, and each other, and we can get through this together. But you will _not_," and here she caught his eyes again to be sure he was listening, "Make any rash declarations—and then hold yourself to them because you're so damn stubborn—that put your life in the balance because you can _not_ do that to me. Okay?"

His eyes were red and his nose puffy when he nodded. "Okay," he said. Though he was crying again and rubbing his face on her shoulder, she could tell that he was secretly glad that she cared so fiercely.

"Lily?" he said after a moment, "I love you. I love you. I don't say that nearly enough but I—"

"It's okay," she replied. "I know. I love you too. More than you know." He sniffled and glanced up at her.

"I'm sorry," he said again sheepishly. "Your shirt…and you haven't seen me like this…"

She kissed his forehead. "It's alright. I'm your girlfriend; this is what I'm here for. Honestly, I was feeling under-utilized with you all stoic." He giggled nervously and sniffed again.

"Your shirt…" he mumbled.

"It's alright."

"I'm sorry.  
"It's alright."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He cried quietly for a moment longer before saying,

"Mum and Dad liked you a lot. You never got to know them well, what with the war and the business, but they liked you a lot."

"Really?"

"Loads. Mum would go on and on. She enjoyed making tea with you in the mornings when no one else was awake."

"She would bake bread for everybody."

"Her bread was the best." He chuckled nostalgically. "But she did try this recipe once—made the whole house stink for days…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Dad was not amused…"

And so they lay on the couch together for hours, James intermittently crying, telling stories about his mother and father, and apologizing profusely for both, Lily running her fingers through his hair, and promising him that his actions were quite alright. Eventually, he stopped weeping so bitterly and she stopped expelling hackneyed phrases of support, the two of them quietly and naturally conversing until they grew drowsy and dropped off to sleep.

Later, Lily would reflect that James was the most singularly attractive person she had ever met who looked so singularly _un_attractive when he cried. And she only loved him the better for it for she finally had a special flaw she could cherish. It made him more hers, and she more his.

Later, James would reflect that Lily was the most faithful person he'd ever met who had seen him in such a blubbering, humiliating state—not even his best friends had witnessed him in as such a mess.

He asked her to marry him within a month.


End file.
